


Proving a Point

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Biblical References, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lucifer Bingo, Therapy, i had this half-written when i got my bingo card, i just had to use it somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Set in that strange in-between space in Season 2, after Lucifer has started seeing Linda again, but before she breaks her fixation on the fact that he's the Devil.For my free space on my Lucifer Bingo card, I used the prompt "therapy".





	Proving a Point

**Author's Note:**

> It might help to know the story of Job for this one. There's a SparkNotes version.

“What about Job?” Linda asked.

She was still sitting behind her desk, rather than in her usual chair. She knew that the distance hurt Lucifer; she could see it on his face, in his pinched smile and tense shoulders. But she couldn’t bring herself to close the gap. Not yet.

Lucifer glanced up at her, not quite making eye contact. “What?”

“Job. In the Bible? What was the deal with that?”

A strange expressed crossed Lucifer’s face. Not shame, not embarrassment, not quite awkwardness...

Sheepish. Lucifer Morningstar, with an ego more swollen than his bank account, looked _sheepish_.

“That was an accident,” he said, deliberately, that sheepish look still caught in the half-twist of his smile. “I apologized. Repeatedly.” He smirked. “In many ways.”

 _Uses innuendos and references to sexuality to derail conversations that may lead to emotional vulnerability._ Linda wrote. Lucifer squinted at her, but didn’t comment. He probably couldn’t read her notes from this angle.

“What were you attempting to do?”

“Prove a point.” Lucifer muttered, looking down at his lap. “Dad invoked me, what was I supposed to do but show up and prove him wrong?”

“Invoked you?” Linda asked, just barely stopping herself from leaning forward. She was still his therapist, despite the circumstances. She wasn’t here to gawk at him.

“Yes, ‘if only My son could be as upright and blameless as this man Job,’” Lucifer recounted. Linda watched the color drain out of his face. “...or something of that nature.”

 _Impeccable memory, to the point of distressing himself with his own recollections._ Linda wrote.

“So you heard him, and you wanted to prove him wrong?”

Lucifer nodded, his lip curling slightly. “Angels aren’t allowed to kill humans, but they are allowed to… arrange circumstances in certain ways.”

Linda nodded. “I remember the story. I never remember how it ends, though. Do you prove your point, or does Job refuse to curse God?”

Lucifer scoffed, running a hand through his hair. A curl came loose from his elegantly coiffed hair. He didn’t notice. Linda forced herself to ignore it. _He’s the Devil. Talking about how he used and destroyed a man’s life and family to prove a point to his father, who happens to be God Himself. Stay focused._

“It all dissolved into philosophical poppycock,” Lucifer said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dad prattled on about the Leviathan, scolded Job’s friends, and gave him ten brand new offspring to make up for the dead ones.”

Lucifer’s voice cracked on the word _dead_ . Linda noticed, but didn’t reach for her pen. With Lucifer, some things… some _traumas,_ were on a different scale than she could analyze.

“So who won?” She pressed. It was a misstep, she knew it, as soon as she said it. Lucifer’s expression crumpled, then closed off.

“I didn’t,” her patient murmured, wretchedly. “That’s all that matters, really. If I don’t win, He wins by default.”

“I’m sorry—” Linda started, but Lucifer cut her off.

“Don’t,” his voice was soft, strangely vulnerable. “I thought talking about uncomfortable subjects was part of therapy.”

He didn’t advance on her, didn’t raise his voice. He stood slowly, smoothing down his pants, keeping his hands in her view the whole time. His eyes flicked down, to his watch, then up to her face.

He knew she was still afraid of him, and he was being careful. It ached. “I will see you next week, Doctor,” he said, politely, leaving without another word. 

Linda glanced at the clock. It was exactly the end of his appointment. She wasn’t sure he’d ever timed his departure so precisely before.


End file.
